River Flows in You
by effervesced
Summary: Rachel really is his best friend, and she's about the only person he can confide in—with his problems in school and problems in life and everything in general, and she always understands and says the right words, and – oh, he thinks he definitely has feelings for her. Deep feelings. He just isn't sure what to do about them. AU.


**I want y'all to know that this was supposedly a oneshot, but upon further deliberation, I've decided to split it up into two chapters (or maybe three, it depends on how long the continuation is). :)**

**I sincerely hope you enjoy!**

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_i_.

They've been the best of friends since they were in second grade.

They're neighbours, yes, but they actually became close in school, over their Science class, right when they were given an individual task of growing a sunflower.

Finn remembers that quite well, remembers that after a few days' time, his plant won't grow no matter what he tries to do, so he finally asked someone for help, and that someone just so happens to be the smartest one among his classmates, Rachel Berry. That project was due until after two months, so Rachel helped him grow it. (_"Finn! You can't grow any plant if you store them in your room! They need sunlight in order to do photosynthesis! And this is a _sunflower_! No wonder yours wouldn't grow."_) Granted, he didn't know what photosynthesis was back then, so Rachel explained the whole thing to him, and gave him a few guidelines on how to grow the plant. They've been best friends ever since.

Up until now, junior year of high school, they still go to the same school—William McKinley High School—located in the middle of a small, hardly-known town called Lima.

Rachel's real smart (and still really short), and Finn, too, is improving with his studies, and they make a pretty good team. Say, when Rachel's bullied and called names like _nerdy freak _or _little miss know-it-all_, Finn would be right by her side in an instant to stand up for her.

_("Hey, stay the fuck away from my best friend, or else _I'll _be the one going after you.")_

Sometimes he even considers the thought of liking Rachel more than a best friend, but then he'll find himself brushing the very thought off just right the moment it crosses his mind.

_ii_.

Rachel's parents, Shelby and Hiram, are both nice persons—individually. She loves them very much, she _does_, but she's slowly getting tired of their endless, heated arguments over nothings that sometimes she wants to run away all by herself (or maybe even with Finn).

But she can't do that. She can't run away. She can't leave all the people she loves and the people who complete her life here in Ohio.

So she stays. She bears with it all. It's not like she has any other option anyway, is it? She's forever going to be stuck here in Lima, just like everyone else.

Well, everyone except Finn, of course. Finn will go far in life. He'll make something of himself: whether it's a famous football player or an actor or a musician or anything big; she's _sure _of it. He's got the talent, the adventurousness, the courage. He just lacks one thing—he lacks _confidence_ in himself. And confidence is an important factor.

If only she could make him believe in himself the way she believes in him, he'll realise how good and talented and capable of a person he is.

_iii_.

More often than not, she'll find herself over at Finn's. Finn's single mother, Mrs. Carole Hudson, always tells her that she's more than welcome in their home if ever she wants to visit, so she does.

"Sometimes I think of him, you know," Finn tells her suddenly. "Like, the thought of him would just randomly cross my mind."

They're inside his room as they watch The Simpsons (much to Rachel's vexation) with the door left open just like what his mom had commanded.

She asks, "Who?" but she doesn't really look at him. He has to smile a little, because for someone who claims to hate '_some asinine show_', she's the only one who seems rather into watching it.

"My father," he says quietly.

Well, at least _that_ caught her attention. She turns the TV off (he almost protests if not for the fact that they're about to engage in a rather serious conversation) and turns her attention fully at him. She's sitting on the carpeted floor, her back pressed against the foot of his bed while he sits on the bed itself.

He motions for her to sit beside him atop the queen sized bed by patting the spot on his right, so she does just that. They sit quietly for a moment, her bare thigh against his, elbows brushing as they scoot further backwards so they lean on the headboard.

It's silent for a while, until Finn speaks up, "Sometimes I wonder, _what if things were different_? Like, what if my dad was not engaged in the Mafia and is still alive and stuff? Would he be here? Would he stay with mom and me?" He feels his tears clog up his throat; he tries to fight them back. He doesn't want to cry in front of Rachel.

She doesn't say anything though, just gazes at him understandingly, listening to every word that pours out of his mouth.

"But above all of that, I wonder if . . . if he'd be proud of me, you know? If he'd like where I'm going in my life, the direction I'm taking, the things I'm currently doing." His voice cracks a bit, and he finally lets the tears fall. He turns his head to look at her, saying helplessly, "And, Rach, what – what if I'm just – what if I'm like, disappointing him right now? What if he doesn't like what I'm doing?" He gazes at her, amber eyes locked to her chocolate ones, and it's like his intent stare indicates that he's begging her to have all the answers.

"Oh, Finn," she murmurs, and she rests a sympathetic hand on his arm. "Of course he'd be proud of you. You've grown to being this – this nice, gorgeous young man. You're doing well with your academics, and most importantly, you're a _great _son. What should he be disappointed of?" It's a rhetorical question, of course; Finn's father has so many reasons to be proud of him.

He looks at her again then, and his eyes bore into hers as he cracks a small, grateful smile. Rachel really _is_ his best friend, and she's about the only person he can confide in—with his problems in school and problems in life and _everything_, and she always understands and says the right words, and – _oh_, he thinks he definitely has feelings for her. Deep feelings.

He just isn't sure what to do about them.

_iv_.

Rachel's mom leaves at the start of senior year. It doesn't surprise Rachel—not really.

She already expected it, actually. Well, how could she not? Her father hasn't been quite the daddy she used to know nowadays. He's transformed into this – this frightening man. More often than not, she wonders if he's really even her daddy, still. (Well of course technically he still is, but the question is, _is he playing that part_?)

It does, however, surprise Finn the moment she tells him while he drives them both home from school on a humid Friday around the end of September. It surprised him so much that he had to stop the vehicle for a second and pulled over the side of the road.

"What?" he exclaims ridiculously.

Rachel doesn't look at him, instead focuses her gaze out the window as she solemnly nods her head, saying hollowly, "Yeah." She knows he expects her to elaborate with it all, but well. It stings to think about it. About how her mom bailed on her without so much of a proper farewell.

"Rach."

"Just – can we now head home? I don't wanna talk about it," she tells him.

"No." His voice is so firm that Rachel had to turn her head and check if he's really serious and really is doing this right now. Seriously, she's not in the best mood to talk about said subject.

"_Finn_."

"_No_, Rachel," he repeats stubbornly. "You're obviously super bothered, and you obviously need someone, so we're gonna talk about this right now and I'm gonna comfort you." She gives him a steely look. "Rachel, we're _best friends_. You and I both know I'm your best confidant," he states matter-of-factly, a bit of pedantry lacing his tone.

She has to chuckle at his cockiness despite herself. "Do you really wanna hear about how pathetic my life is?" she asks him with a dejected sigh.

"Hey, don't say that! Your life isn't pathetic," he protests.

She chuckles yet again, and then says, "Fine. Do you really wanna hear the story of my life?" she rephrased dramatically, and he laughs before nodding. "Fine, okay." She takes a deep breath, and released it with a sigh. "My father is, um, gay, I guess. He kind of likes men," Rachel confessed.

_What? _It's quiet for a moment, and Finn can't help it—his eyes widen at the revelation. Mr. Berry has always seemed so . . . _manly_.

"And he finally acknowledged that fact and admitted it to me and my mom months ago," Rachel continues.

"Seriously? Why didn't you tell me back then?" he complains. "And — no, wait, sorry, your mom wasn't mad?" Finn asks, bewildered as all the questions quickly pour out of his mouth.

Rachel shakes her head, making Finn's eyes widen even more. "She wasn't, and she told me that she had the suspicions already a long, long time ago," she says. "But she still stayed, for my sake at least," she adds. "But then daddy wouldn't come home for a few nights, and sometimes when he would, he'd start yelling at mom and hit her – or sometimes even me – for whatever reason, and — and I don't know. Maybe mom finally got tired of it – of _him_. So she left," she finished with a slight shrug.

He reaches out to wipe the tears Rachel doesn't even know she's been crying. "Rach . . ."

She puts on a smile and brushes it off, clearly not wanting to make a dramatic scene on what supposed to be simply their drive home. "Let's go home, shall we?" she says with a tight smile.

He takes a deep breath, and although reluctantly, drove down the neighbourhood towards their street.

_v._

His mom remarries, and soon _Carole and Finn and Rachel_ becomes _Carole and Finn and Rachel and Burt and Kurt_.

It wasn't really easy at first: Adjusting to an although very little but still increase in number of company at home – but Finn's happy, because it makes his mother happy, and Rachel's found a best gay in the form of one Kurt Hummel, and really? So long as the two most important women in Finn's life are okay and happy with how things are working out, then he's happy, too.

_vi._

"Do you think we could do it?"

"Do what?"

"Y'know, just . . . _run away_."

They're lying lazily on the roof of Finn's house, the part which Finn's bedroom window has access to. Carole's downstairs with Kurt and Burt, and she's cooking, perhaps, while Rachel's daddy is in Columbus, staying there for a week to take care of some business, whatever it is.

She tilts her head to her right side to look at him. "Finn," she says, her tone reprimanding.

"Rachel," he says back, voice just as stern as hers.

"You know we can't do that, Finn," Rachel says dryly in a _we've-talked-about-this-many-times-before_ voice, rolling her eyes before turning her gaze up up up, to the vastness of the beautiful night-sky floating above them, star by star by star splattered messily all over it gazing back down at them, sparkling and sparkling and forming constellations Finn won't even _try_ to analyse.

"And why not?" he challenges. He turns and lies on his side, facing her direction right beside him, using his left hand to support his head as he looks at her intently.

Rachel sighs and doesn't respond, a sign that he should know the answer already. She refuses to look at him.

His right hand rests on her flat stomach, tracing lazy circles there because he knows that she's ticklish, and when you tickle Rachel Berry, you'd totally get her attention.

She suppresses a giggle as she slaps his hand away, and she finally looks at him. "Haven't we talked about this a hundred times before?" she inquires seriously, her own hand flying up to grace his face, from his cheeks to his jaw-line and then up to his nose, tracing the freckles sprinkled there haphazardly.

(He tries not to feel anything from the contact.)

(She tries to convince herself that what she's doing doesn't mean anything. That her enchantment towards Finn Hudson doesn't mean anything.)

His right hand lifts up and grasps hers to stop its movements, because it's kind of distracting him from speaking. They smile at each other for a brief moment before he talks again,

"We have, but isn't now as good a time as any to bring it up again, and _really _consider it more seriously?" he asks her, and their eyes meet each other's.

She can't look away even if she wants to. "And why is that?" she deadpans.

"C'mon, Rach, we're only a few months away from graduation, and just – _why_ can't we run away? Head to New York or California, or something?"

She closes her eyes for a brief moment, inhales, and then replies, "As much as I like the idea, Finn, it isn't that simple," she murmurs.

"Nothing in this world is simple, baby girl," he murmurs back, using his and only his term of endearment for her. "Making things simple is solely up to the people who _want_ to make things simple," he says.

She smiles softly, because _hey_, _that really makes sense_. "When did you get so smart?" she jokes.

He grins. "I learn from the best," he retorts, referring to her. "So . . . What do you say?"

She ponders for a few, and asks half-heartedly, "What about my daddy? Your mom? Burt and Kurt?"

"Mom and Burt would understand. Kurt would most likely join the move. I'm sure Mr. Berry will understand, too."

_vii._

Finn's mom is really cool, because she sure didn't seem at all opposed to the idea of him and Rachel moving upstate when he mentions it to her. If anything, she's actually pretty ecstatic about it, saying that she's glad that he's made such a huge decision with his best friend. Burt's fine with it, too, so long as he takes care of himself.

He tells Rachel about all of this over lunch in school, while they sit across each other at their usual table.

"It's totally awesome, Rach. I mean, she didn't even question me about anything! She just said, _'As long as you're happy, then I'm happy.'_ And I told her that 'I _am_ happy, mom, or at least I'm going to be, and absolutely sure about doing all of this,' and she said that she's fine with it as long as we're gonna be okay," he narrates giddily, his grin refusing to go away.

But he pauses when he sees Rachel's blank expression.

"What's wrong, Rachel?" Finn asks, furrowing his eyebrows. "You don't seem all too excited about this as I am," he points out.

Rachel heaves a deep sigh, saying, "It's daddy. He – he doesn't want me to move to New York. Apparently he did something so that Ohio State would accept me, and I – I'm heading there, Finn. That's where I'm attending college at," she murmurs, her voice cracking as tears gather in her eyes. "He said I won't fit in New York, and that my dreams are just, you know, _dreams_ and will stay that way, that I won't ever belong there, and that my New York fantasy won't ever get me anywhere."

He frowns. "That's complete and utter bullshit."

She flinches, looking up at him with a pained and angry glare. "E-excuse me?"

"What your dad said, I mean," he alters.

She nods then, finally understanding what he was really meaning to say. "I know," she agrees quietly.

He reaches out a hand to grasp one of hers over the table. "Hey," he murmurs, tuning out the rest of the cafeteria crowd. "You're not—you can't let those words affect you, okay?"

She sighs, a little sob escaping her lips. "I know," she replies, "I just . . . I can't _not _go to OSU, Finn. Or at least not as long as daddy gets a say about it."

"You don't have to live around your dad's fingers. You deserve to attend a college you want to attend," he argues.

"Finn, I _know _that," she pressed, getting a little frustrated. "But I'm – I'm still his daughter and he's still my father."

"Doesn't mean you don't get to have a say in this decision! You're the one who's going to attend college, not your father. For Christ's sake, Rachel, this is _your _future, so you deserve to have _your _preference!" He's breathing heavily, now, growing impatient at how unreasonable enough his best friend is getting. Surely she can't give up on her New York dreams yet, right? If she does, what happens to him?

She just looks down though, not saying anything and doesn't agree with him, instead toying with her vegetable salad with her fork.

Finn can't believe it. She's giving up just like that? No. He can't believe it at all, so he loosens his grasp on her left hand and stands up.

"Wait. Finn—where are you going?" she asks quickly as he gathers all of his things.

His expression is hard and blank, and it's so unreadable that it frightens Rachel. "Hold – hold on. Are you—you're mad?" she questions, kind of panicking.

He takes a deep breath and refuses to meet her gaze. "I just – I wanna head to class."

She frowns, standing up as well. "It's still early, Finn, it's barely even—"

"I know," he cuts off, shaking his head a little. "I just – I'll talk to you after school, alright?" He walks to her side to kiss the top of her head, just like he always does. She revels the feel of his lips on the crown of her head for a moment as they linger there, brushing against the strands of her hair ever so slightly as he inhales deeply, and sighs when he pulls back.

"Okay," she whispers uncertainly.

He turns to exit the cafeteria, slinging his backpack recklessly over his right shoulder. "By the way," he calls after a few steps, "I'm going home early later, so . . . I might not get the chance to drive you."

She's kind of confused; he used to wait for her even if he had to actually wait hours.

But she just nods meekly, feeling a sickening feeling settle in her stomach as he walks out and into the corridors.

_viii._

Finn's been ignoring her, and she's come to notice this after she's sent him about fourteen text messages and he didn't even respond to a single one. She also tried to phone him after her last period to ask if everything's okay and why he's not responding to her, but the call went straight to voicemail, and so she decides to let it pass and convince herself that Finn's simply busy this afternoon and evening, what with squeezing in some time of his day to be able to work for a little while at Sheets 'N' Things to earn even just a little bit of money.

But upon arriving at home and finding his truck parked in their driveway, she's started to become anxious, and she decides that she obviously _can't_ let it pass since it's Finn, her _best friend_, who is trying to avoid her for some reason.

So she quickly made her presence known to her daddy (who doesn't really acknowledge her), changed to clean and comfortable clothes after taking a quick shower, and went straight to the Hudson-Hummel household.

She enters and finds Carole at the sink in the kitchen, washing some dishes. "Hey, Miss C," she greets merrily as she presses a kiss on Carole's cheek. "Where're Burt and Kurt?"

"Hey, honey. They're out for the night. Something about father-and-son night out tradition," Carole says with a gentle smile, glancing over at Rachel briefly. "What happened?" she asks after a second.

"What do you mean?"

"Finn's been in his room and refused to be disturbed since he arrived from school. He didn't even go down for dinner, which is _certainly _a rarity," she jokes. "So . . . what happened?"

Rachel sighs. "I'm not really sure either," she says, doleful all of a sudden. "He's been avoiding me and my messages. That's exactly why I came here early today, you see," she explains.

"You should come up and try to talk to him. You're the only one he listens to more often than not, anyways," she says with a small smile.

Rachel hesitates. "I don't know if that's a great idea. I mean, I'm about ninety percent sure that he's upset because of me."

"Even so," Carole says back, "You should try to talk to him. Explain to him certain things if ever he is, in fact, upset because of something you've done."

"I — okay," Rachel gives in. "I probably should head upstairs now."

She walks up and towards his room then, a little nervous and a little anticipated, prepared to demand on knowing the reason why Finn was ignoring her in the first place.

She comes upon the door, finding it locked, and so knocks gently, hand pounding against the wooden object softly for a few times.

She hears shuffling inside, followed by a muffled whine of "Go away, Ma, I'm _not_ hungry."

She smiles a little bit, although it fades fast when she realised that his voice is kind of seemingly grief. She knocks again, this time says, "Finn? 'S me."

She thinks she hears him groan and grunt, albeit she isn't really that sure, but she frowns anyway.

A few footsteps can be heard inside, and then the next thing she knows, the door is swinging open slowly, revealing a tall figure whose head is ducked low, voice grave as it murmurs quietly, "What are you doing here?"

Her frown deepens, and she places her right hand on her hip, says, "That is _no way _you talk to a lady, Finn, let alone your _best _friend." She sounds indignant, and yeah, okay, maybe a little childish, too, as she pushes her way further into the room, and he shuts the door with a resigned huff.

"'M sorry, I guess," he mumbles under his breath, heading back over to his bed, slumping his body in it carelessly and pulling the sheets over his head, turning his back to her as she lies herself down her usual side of it (yes, she has proclaimed possession on this side long, long ago).

She lets out a sigh of frustration, bouncing herself to her knees and roughly grabbing the sheets to unveil his face. He keeps his eyes closed. "_Finn_," she says exasperatedly, "Will you please sit up and look at me? We should talk."

He grumbles incoherently, says, "What's there to talk about?"

She flinches. "_Finn_."

"Fine, then," he says finally, sitting up and facing her, and wait. Are those dried streaks of tears marked on his cheeks?

He refuses to meet her eyes, so she takes a hold of his chin and forces him to face her and finally lock his eyes with hers, really, truly looking at her.

"Have you been crying?" she asks, concerned.

He looks away again, gently removing her hand from his chin, but he doesn't say anything.

"Finn . . ." she whispers.

"You're – you're so _unfair_, Rachel," he blurts out abruptly. She furrows her brows in perplexity, but stays silent since she knows he's got more left to say. "I – I can't _believe _you're just giving up that easy," he complains, his voice slightly breaking.

"What do you mean, Finn? I – I don't . . ."

"Oh, don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, Rach. You _do_," he points out accusingly, but not exactly in a rude manner. She can clearly make out the visible nuisance in his eyes; she lets him get all of it out. "I – you're just – you're _unfair_, Rach. I thought – I thought we were gonna do this _together_. You can't just give up on New York and head to Columbus just because your father said so. You deserve to be able to argue against him about that, Rach. He can't just – he can't just _dictate_ your future just like that." His breaths are ragged, his eyes filling with tears again and they're threatening to spill out. He blinks rapidly, willing them to not break free of his eyes.

"You – you don't get to let go like that, Rachel. You can't just let go of your dreams like that. You don't get to _bail_ all of a sudden. I – I won't let you. I will _never_ let you," he promises, his voice firm. "You just – you don't get to give up," he states.

"Finn, I am _not_ giving up," she says. "I'm _not_."

He stares at her. "You're not?" he asks doubtfully.

"I'm not, Finn. I just – I don't know what to do, so I just try to – I try to just go with the way my father wants it. The way he planned it. I – I thought it'd be easier that way."

"But—"

"I know, I know, I was wrong. I realised that everything — it'd actually be harder if I do something I don't want to do. Or never dreamt of doing."

She sounds so sad. And – and it's weird, he thinks. For the past years they've been friends, Finn's always the conflicted one, the _lost _one, and Rachel's always been the one to find his way. And now—now it's the other way around, now Rachel's the one who needs his help, and it's just – he realises that it isn't that easy: What Rachel does when she comforts him every time he whines about how fucked up he is (even though she repeats over and over that he's _so_ not, every single time).

If he'd actually admit it, he isn't really sure on what to do. Or – or what's right to say. Like, of course he wants to say some certain things, but he just – he isn't sure how to say them without stumbling upon his words and sounding like a total dumbass.

He swallows, and he doesn't know which string inside him broke or something, but the next thing he knows, he's leaning in towards Rachel, and he wipes a few stray tears off her cheeks, her eyes getting a little wide as his face inches closer and closer to hers that she can practically feel his breath blowing hot air against her lips, and face in general.

"Rachel," he breathes. "You look lovely."

She laughs a little despite herself, because _how can he say that when she's probably looking like a complete mess?_

"I'm going to kiss you now," he warns softly, gently, and moves a little bit closer.

She doesn't move, still. She doesn't know why, but even though she knows what's about to happen, she makes no move of stopping it – of stopping _him_, and so after a second his lips brush hers gently.

It's new – this whole thing. As much as it should embarrass him to admit it, this is his first kiss, and something in the back of his mind tells him that he should be glad and thankful that it was shared with Rachel, his very best friend.

It feels good, and their mouths stay fused for a good moment, revelling and taking into memory the feel of the other's lips attached to their own, soft and pliant and gentle.

He opens his subconsciously-closed eyes and stares at her face as their lips start to move – slowly, hesitantly, and still learning. It feels nice, though, riveting, this slow burn, this unusual feeling, like there are bubbles rising up in his chest, feelings that make him feel tingles up to the very tips of his toes. Her eyes are closed, tear tracks still quite visible, but he doesn't wipe them away, now, and instead closes his eyes again as their mouths press together more firmly and start to move with certainty.

He pulls away then, just to gaze at her and see what her reaction will be.

She's smiling when she opens her eyes, which bore straight at him. He smiles back, leaning in again to kiss her bottom lip softly, then her upper lip, before finally brushing his lips on hers.

"Rach . . ." he whispers, his voice a little hoarse. "I think I might be falling in love with you."

* * *

**I am debating with myself on whether or not I should make this angsty or fluffy (I haven't really finished the continuation of this yet, so plans may still change and plot might still twist a lil' bit).**

**A review would be much appreciated! :)**


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